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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28136976">oh, ana</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/demizorua/pseuds/demizorua'>demizorua</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>GhostyInnit AU [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(TWs start here), (basically i alternate between he and they for tubbo, (end TWs), (no comfort Yet. comfort Eventually. Hopefully.), (platonic) - Freeform, Angst, Any Pronouns for Eret (Video Blogging RPF), Character Death, Dead TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Dead Tommyinnit AU, Depressed TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Drowning, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, GhostInnit AU, Good Friend Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), He/Him and They/Them Pronouns for Toby Smith | Tubbo, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Hurt/Comfort, Manipulative Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Mentions of Gaslighting/Unhealthy Relationships, President Toby Smith | Tubbo, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Tags will be added as the story is updated, Toby Smith | Tubbo Misses TommyInnit, Winged Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), and between he/she/they for eret)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 00:12:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,259</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28136976</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/demizorua/pseuds/demizorua</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    <i>“It’s never my time to die.”</i>
  </p>
</div><p>A what-if fic based around the concept of perma-death and ghosts on the SMP! What if, instead of realizing that Dream is manipulating him, Tommy died during exile, losing his final life? How would everyone react? What would change?

</p>
<p>What would “GhostyInnit” be like?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>No Romantic Relationship(s), please don't ship them for the love of god-</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>GhostyInnit AU [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2061333</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>470</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. ana's safety</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>before the fic, i wanna get some Information out there real quick!!</p><p>- i know i mentioned this in the tags, but i want to make this as clear as possible: this fic is going to focus on <b>tommy dying during his exile.</b> as such, it will include a number of sensitive subjects; <b>each chapter will have a trigger warning in the notes</b>, in addition to the tags included. this first chapter will include <b>suicidal/self-deprecating thoughts</b>, <b>intentional self-endangerment</b>, <b>mentions/allusions to unhealthy/disordered eating</b>, <b>drowning</b>, and <b>major character death</b>. please be cautious when proceeding, and heed the warnings for your own safety!!</p><p>- this au was conceptualized like… very soon after tommy’s exile. it was after the infamous nether scene with tommy, and is based off of a quick joke wilbur made! i’m sure someone else has done something with this concept before, in fact i've seen some great fanart of the idea but i wanted to put forward my own take on the idea!</p><p>- as for a time period, this fic probably starts/takes place sometime around the mexican dream/drista visit, on one of those nights! none in particular, just. One Of Those. and the whole plot is planned out as of now, so it may diverge from wherever the smp winds up going in the future! <s>i intentionally waited until after tommy’s stream “i cant any longer” because i wanted to make sure the smp wasn’t actually going in this direction, though fdkjghdf,</s></p><p>- the title and chapter titles are from the song <i>oh, ana</i> by <i>mother mother</i>! it just kinda felt like it fit!</p>
    </blockquote><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    <i>i'll be god</i>
    <br/>
    <i>i'll be god, i'll be god, i'll be god today</i>
    <br/>
    <i>hold my head under that bath and breathe away</i>
    <br/>
    <i>slit my wrists and watch that blood evaporate</i>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <a href="https://youtu.be/djS5XuvRafM">
      <i>
        <span class="u">- oh ana // mother mother</span>
      </i>
    </a>
  </p>
</div>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tommy felt lonelier at night.</p>
<p>He was lonely all the time, really, but somehow the nights were worse. During the day, he could keep himself occupied, could pretend that every second spent in silence didn’t drive another frozen iron pike through his heart, could pretend that he was getting used to living on his own like everyone said that he would. Just wait, Tommy, it’ll get easier, it’ll hurt less, just keep going, keep waiting, hold <i>on-!!</i></p>
<p>During the day, Tommy could almost convince himself he was okay.</p>
<p>The nights were different, though. The nights were harder. It was much more difficult to pretend that he was okay when he was surrounded by darkness and silence on all sides. Dream never stayed the night, even though he promised he would, even though he’d built himself a tent, so Tommy never had anything to distract him in the late hours. It was just himself and his thoughts, and the agonizing loneliness he couldn’t escape no matter how many fake-girlfriends he built.</p>
<p>Maybe it made sense; the night was for sleeping, after all. But no matter how exhausted Tommy was, he always wound up staring dead-eyed at the surroundings he’d long since grown bored of, wrapped in the itchy woolen blanket he’d managed to stitch together yet still shivering and wrought with misery. His hands were cold and clammy, and his clothes had started to hang off his frame loosely, even more than they did before, which certainly didn’t help him feel any warmer.</p>
<p>Tommy hadn’t bothered to make a fire tonight, despite the slight chill in the air. He was far too tired to care, even though he probably should, only having his signature thin white shirt and red and white tee. Dream had taken his jacket from him today, the one he’d gotten from Ghostbur, back at the start of this whole exile, so he was much less protected from the frigid night air.</p>
<p>That jacket was the only thing he’d had that mattered, and now it was gone. Now he had nothing; nothing but the intricately crafted compass which he’d kept locked in his ender chest ever since Dream told him what had happened to Tubbo’s.</p>
<p>If Tubbo didn’t care, then neither did Tommy, he told himself as he sealed it away.</p>
<p>
  <s>
    <i>Maybe if he said it enough times it’d be true.</i>
  </s>
</p>
<p>God, he was just so <i>tired</i>. His eyes burned, and blinking only seemed to make it worse, the dryness refusing to dissipate no matter how many times he tried. And it was so cold and so lonely, just like it had been every night since he was cast away, and <i>fuck</i>, he was just so worn out. He felt tired, he felt broken, he felt… numb.</p>
<p>The thought hurt, biting at Tommy’s little remaining optimism like a sharpened icicle, but that only made it more true. He used to be so <i>warm</i>, his emotions burning hot and violently; he used to feel so <i>passionately</i>, so <i>intensely</i>! But now? Now everything was cold and dry, numbness plaguing his body as he slowly cared less and less. Now he just felt numb.</p>
<p>Now he just felt empty.</p>
<p>Taking another swig of lukewarm water from his canteen, Tommy shuddered, bitter nausea briefly flaring up in the back of his throat before slowly settling as his stomach was tricked into thinking it was filled. He hadn’t eaten anything in hours, and even then it had only been a few mouthfuls of mushroom stew, but even the thought of food made his stomach turn in disgust.</p>
<p>Tommy knew he should eat something, knew that his recent behavior was far from healthy, but he honestly couldn’t bring himself to care. He forced enough food down his throat to keep himself from passing out, downed enough water to keep his body from complaining too much, but he never bothered with anything beyond that. What did he need to eat for? Nobody came to visit him except for Dream, and the older man didn’t seem bothered by Tommy’s newly lethargic attitude, just taking whatever he wanted from Tommy for the day before hanging around the area until nightfall. And then leaving, as usual.</p>
<p>Leaving. Just like everyone else did.</p>
<p>The shivering was starting to get annoying, each tremor aggravating the migraine that had become commonplace over the past few days. Tommy had mentioned the pain to Ranboo in one of their written correspondences, and the half-enderman had mentioned something about stress and lack of sleep causing chronic headaches, so he assumed it had something to do with that. Knowing the cause of the migraine didn’t make it any less infuriating, though, and Tommy found himself wishing that Dream had stayed, if only so he had something to focus on other than the constant throbbing pain.</p>
<p>Staggering to his feet, Tommy let his thick blanket fall to the ground, pooling beside the bed he’d been provided. Pulling aside the flap to his tent, Tommy stumbled out into the frigid night air, gooseflesh breaking out across his skin as he forced himself forward. He wasn’t sure where he was going, to be honest, he just couldn’t bear to sit in the cold, empty, <i>miserable</i> tent any longer. He couldn’t handle it, couldn’t take another second, even if his only other option was to wander the night aimlessly. That was fine, that was good, that was better, <i>anything</i> was better than slowly wasting away in misery. That’s what Tommy told himself as he let his feet guide him, the lie he clung to as he drew closer to the repetitive crashing of waves. It was fine, he was fine, he was just going for a walk, it was fine.</p>
<p>He was just going for a walk.</p><hr/>
<p>The night sky was interesting, now that Tommy looked at it closer. The stars seemed to shine brighter than usual, and the moon hung proudly above the rest. The scene reflected itself softly on the surface of the swaying waves, bathing the night in an ethereal glow.</p>
<p>Tommy inhaled sharply as he forced his head above the surface again, teeth chattering as he lethargically fought against the waves. He let himself bob up and down in the salty foam, so starved of human contact that the water lapping at his limbs was almost comforting in the cheap imitation of touch it provided.</p>
<p>His gaze dropped from the sprawling starry sky, falling to the horizon ahead of him. From here he could see the distant land of the SMP, light radiating off of it like a halo, beckoning him, a call he was so desperate to heed. So desperate, apparently, that his subconscious mind carried him out towards the ever-present siren song. He was never very awake during these trips; was he even awake right now? The shimmering starlight certainly seemed dream-like, especially when paired with the repetitive rocking of the drifting waves, but the night air and full body ache felt as real as anything had over these lonely, miserable weeks.</p>
<p>This was farther out than Tommy had ever dared travel, too fearful of Dream’s callous anger to risk it. Not before, not until the silent cover of night offered him the deceptive anonymity of darkness, coaxing his lonely heart out into the depths of the ocean. And all of this, for what? So he could gaze longingly at a forbidden neverland? So he could drift aimlessly, dreaming of what could have, what might have been? So he could stare at the warm glow of his homeland, so he could tear his tired eyes away from the sickly shimmer of bonfires and torches? So he could flee from the dark of night that was only barely held at bay by the slipshod lighting, from the loneliness not warded off at all?</p>
<p>So he could search for a brief vacation from the painful emptiness of his “home?”</p>
<p>Coughing up acrid saltwater, Tommy shuddered, the mere thought of the empty campsite sending ice-cold dread coursing through his body. That place was not, could <i>never</i> be his home, and Tommy loathed the fact that he had nowhere else to go. He would give <i>anything</i> to be allowed to go back, go back to his <i>actual</i> home, with his friends and his family and people who care about him and where he doesn’t have to be so horribly <i>alone</i>.</p>
<p>But he doesn’t have that anymore, does he? His family left him, and his “friends” all dropped him at the drop of a hat. They all betrayed him. <i>Tubbo</i> betrayed him. He had no one left anymore; no one but Dream, who stole all his things anyway.</p>
<p>How sad is that? His former “enemy” was the only person who cared, the only person who ever bothered to come visit him in his misery. He had no one, no one left who cared, no one who missed him as much as he missed everyone who left him all alone. Despite everything, he still missed them. Despite all that he’d been through, he’d take them back in a heartbeat, because he’s so goddamn desperate for companionship.</p>
<p>How pathetic was that?</p>
<p>Tommy tried clenching his fist experimentally, the cold water beginning to make his fingers numb. He couldn’t feel a thing, not even his nails digging into the paling flesh of his palm, the saltwater drawing out a faraway tingling feeling. If he looked up, if he focused on the starry sky above him, he could pretend he was back at that rollercoaster of a night, the ocean spray reminiscent of the rain on his face, snow floating around him as he fell backward weightlessly, far above the clouds.</p>
<p>Sad. Tired.</p>
<p>Alone.</p>
<p>He could barely feel his limbs anymore, and the little he could feel was a dull, tired ache, an overly persistent <i>hurt</i>. His teeth chattered loudly among the wash of the waves, and he couldn’t focus on anything, nothing except the bone-deep <i>exhaustion</i>.</p>
<p>He was so <i>tired</i>…</p>
<p>Idly, Tommy noticed the ocean’s surface close heavy over his head, noticed the sky full of voyeurs pull farther and farther away. He could feel the same weightlessness he felt on <i>that night</i>, his wet clothes no longer heavy on his thin frame. His eyes stung, salt coating his tongue, and the water felt <i>cold, cold, cold,</i> but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Why should he?</p>
<p>It’s not like anyone else did.</p>
<p>For a while, he just let himself float there. The ocean was kind, the ocean was welcoming, inviting him in when no one else could bother. Water which once had soaked him through, cold and ice tangled in his hair, was now much less frigid, his body and blood slowly numbing. It was almost pleasant now, the biting frost traded out for a relaxing facsimile of warmth. Waves rocked Tommy gently as he drifted along, deeper and deeper, wrapping his beaten and battered form in a twisted, tender embrace that was reminiscent of his father’s soothing hugs. He really missed those hugs.</p>
<p>He missed a lot of things, really.</p>
<p>Tommy watched a series of bubbles drift up around him, his eyes heavy and half-lidded. His lungs were starting to burn more than they usually did, and his chest was starting to ache from the pressure. Some distant part of his mind was screaming for air, devastated as he watched the last remnants of his breath bubble out of his mouth and nose, floating up toward the distant light of the moon.</p>
<p>He knew he needed to breathe, knew he was running out of time as his vision darkened at the edges, but he was so <i>comfortable</i> down here, the deep waters holding onto him tightly. The ocean’s hands rocked him slowly as they pulled him down into the depths, and the water felt so <i>warm</i>…</p>
<p>Time was passing strangely, now. Differently. Shaky and shuddering, just like Tommy’s slowly stilling heartbeat, a flurrying tempo beating wildly out of pace. One moment he was staring numbly up at the wavering moon, wondering if his hands were still there; the next he was blinking back darkness in a disoriented haze.</p>
<p>He couldn’t even see the sky anymore; wasn’t even sure which way was up. It was so dark, and the feeling of weightlessness was disconcerting; Tommy was only sure he was still here due to the fire screaming in his lungs. The pressure had gotten worse, his head throbbing and ears numbed. Tommy couldn’t hear the churning of water, the washing of waves; his world was blessedly silent.</p>
<p>Until it wasn’t.</p>
<p>“Tommy.”</p>
<p>Turning his head, Tommy stared blankly into accusatory blue eyes, the familiar face standing out clearly in the dark, murky water. Tubbo was floating airily beside him, neatly pressed presidential suit completely dry with not a thread out of place. Tommy weakly reached a hand out towards his friend, but the other seemed to hover just out of his reach.</p>
<p>Opening his mouth to call out, Tommy was met with a mouthful of salty water, his body reflexively gagging and heaving, throat closed off yet still vying for oxygen that wasn’t there. Through his squinted eyes, Tommy could see Tubbo frowning at him, the disappointment in his expression making his chest hurt even more than the prolonged asphyxiation.</p>
<p>Tommy’s vision was nearly gone at this point, if not completely faded—were his eyes even open anymore? He couldn’t be sure. Everything was dark: the water, his vision, his eyes, everything was blurry, and yet Tubbo was crystal clear.</p>
<p>“You’re really leaving me, huh?”</p>
<p>Tubbo was still staring at him, expression not having budged from its disapproving glare. Tommy’s eyes were numb—<i>or did they hurt, were they burning, burning, hurting?</i>—but he could tell he was crying, could tell that tears were welling up in the corners—<i>where did the tears start and the ocean end?</i></p>
<p>“I don’t know why I’m disappointed,” Tubbo said, frowning and shaking his head. “You’ve always been so <i>selfish</i>. I shouldn’t’ve expected you to be able to do even <i>this</i> for me.” As he spoke, Tubbo seemed to drift away from Tommy, no, <i>no, wait, don’t leave.</i></p>
<p>Tommy hurt, he <i>ached</i>, he could feel his body failing him but suddenly he didn’t feel quite as calm. <i>Tubbo, no, Tubbo, I’m sorry big man, please, please I’m so sorry, please, Tubbo please I don’t want to die anymore, I don’t want to be alone, please don’t leave-!!</i> Tubbo just shook his head, drifting further away, eyes cold and unforgiving.</p>
<p>“It’s for the best.” Tommy had no strength, could barely keep himself awake, but still he fought, trying his best to reach out, <i>please, Tubbo, please!</i> He could only barely make out Tubbo’s expression now, moving away, away from Tommy, away from their friendship, leaving him in the cold, dark, <i>nothing—</i></p>
<p>“Goodbye, Tommy.”</p>
<p>And just like that…</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>.......</p>
</div><div class="center">
  <p>......</p>
</div><div class="center">
  <p>.....</p>
</div><div class="center">
  <p>....</p>
</div><div class="center">
  <p>...</p>
</div><div class="center">
  <p>..</p>
</div><div class="center">
  <p>.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>…he was <i>alone.</i></p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. ana hear me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    <i>i'll play god</i>
    <br/>
    <i>i'll play god, i'll play god, i'll play god today</i>
    <br/>
    <i>ante up and play that god a poker game</i>
    <br/>
    <i>walk away with all our little god’s spare change</i>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <a href="https://youtu.be/djS5XuvRafM">
      <i>
        <span class="u">- oh ana // mother mother</span>
      </i>
    </a>
  </p>
</div>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Ranboo showed up at Tubbo’s newly constructed apiary, uncharacteristic panic coating his expression, Tubbo had immediately known something was wrong. From the moment he’d gotten up that morning there’d been an uneasy feeling in his gut, the same stomach-churning discomfort they remembered from the day of the festival, from the day Eret betrayed L’Manberg, from the day they had to watch Tommy disappear over the horizon in the pouring rain, obsidian walls slippery beneath his scuffed dress shoes.</p>
<p>From the moment they’d woken up, Tubbo had known something bad was going to happen.</p>
<p>He never could have guessed just how bad it would be, though.</p>
<p>Ranboo had popped in just outside of the apiary’s window, anxious vwoops accompanying the hybrid’s unstable teleportation. Tubbo stood up as Ranboo struggled with the safety door he’d installed, having to duck awkwardly beneath the archway to fit into the building. His suit seemed to be slightly rumpled, and Tubbo noticed Ranboo was picking at his claws in a familiar nervous habit.</p>
<p>“Ranboo? Is everything okay?” Ranboo’s eyes snapped over to Tubbo, and they made an effort to avert their own gaze downwards as the taller boy stumbled over.</p>
<p>“Tubbo, you're here, thank god. Have you—um, I… I need to talk to you.”</p>
<p>“What’s wrong? Did something happen?” Tubbo immediately shifted into crisis mode, already running through possible problems and solutions in his head, but their internal processing came crashing to a standstill the moment Ranboo’s next words passed his lips.</p>
<p>“Tommy’s gone.”</p>
<p>“What?” Tubbo gasped, voice cracking pitifully. They must've misheard him, there's no way, it can't be…</p>
<p>“He’s—I went to visit him, since he’s—he’s been really lonely recently,” Ranboo explained, “and I wanted to be there for him, as—as a friend, y’know? But there was… no one was there, at Logstedshire, not even Dream, and his tent was totally empty—it was like nobody had been there in days!” The enderman hybrid continued to ramble anxiously, but Tubbo had all but completely tuned him out, a thousand-yard stare locked on nothing in particular as the initial statement rang tauntingly in their head.</p>
<p>Tommy’s gone.</p>
<p>Tommy’s <i>gone.</i></p>
<p>“No…” Tubbo murmured, a hand absently coming up to comb through their short hair anxiously. “No… surely not…”</p>
<p>“Tubbo?” The taller boy had been watching Tubbo worriedly, hunched over as he tended to stand whenever he was around anyone else. Tubbo forced himself to blink a few times, letting out a shaky exhale before straightening up, keeping their expression carefully blank.</p>
<p>“Go gather the rest of the cabinet,” he said, “and Philza, if you can find him. Tell them to meet in the town center. I’ll join you all there in a bit to break the news.” Ranboo made a confused noise at that, but didn’t object, and Tubbo found himself thankful for the hybrid’s people-pleasing nature for once, albeit in a slightly bitter sense.</p>
<p>“Oh—okay,” Ranboo mumbled, an unspoken question tacked on to the end of his response. Tubbo sighed, hurrying over to the apiary doors, giving a short, clipped explanation over his shoulder as he left.</p>
<p>“I need to have a talk with Dream.”</p><hr/>
<p>“What do you <i>mean</i> you don't know where he is!?”</p>
<p>Dream had the absolute audacity to shrug at Tubbo’s incredulous fury, the indifference in his expression just as infuriating as it was performative. The green man was currently perched atop a nearby tree, his feigned relaxation a careful cover for the calculated tactical advantage of the position. Tubbo could tell Dream wasn’t as unbothered by his interrogation as he pretended to be, but even the shallow performance of not caring spoke to how little the current crisis seemed to mean to him.</p>
<p>Tubbo swore they could taste iron dancing with the fire lapping at their throat.</p>
<p>“Dream, when Tommy was—was exiled,” <i>god, they could hardly say it without the guilt threatening to strangle them,</i> “you said you'd keep an eye on him. You—you said you'd look out for him, Dream, you—!” Letting out a rough sigh, Tubbo urged the panic nipping at his senses down, forcing himself to keep a level head, <i>just stay calm, Tubbo, just stay-!!!</i></p>
<p>“I didn’t—listen, Tubbo,” Dream said, tone low and flat, a warning note, a serpent’s rattle tracing a slimy trail up the spine of its prey, “I don’t know what happened. He was there one day, and then all of a sudden he was just gone. It’s not my job to keep track of him, so I don’t know what to tell you. As long as he’s not here, I don’t care.”</p>
<p>Tubbo knew that was a lie. He’d seen Dream rushing off in the late mornings to some distant place across the ocean, seen the way the man could never be found anywhere Tubbo dared travel during the day. They’d heard enough from Ranboo’s visits to know that Dream’s surveillance of his friend bordered on obsessive, that Tommy didn’t do a single thing without Dream being fully aware of it in explicit detail.</p>
<p>He knew Dream would never let Tommy escape his surveillance easily, just as he knew that the older man was lying through his teeth when he said he didn’t know, didn’t <i>care</i> where Tommy was.</p>
<p>Just as he knew there was nothing they could do about that fact.</p>
<p>“Thank you for your help, Dream,” Tubbo spat out, teeth clamped tightly lest the magma in their throat spew forth should he not be careful. Scuffed dress shoes landed hollow against the worn wooden pathway as their wearer turned on his heel, fists carefully clenched as he stalked away. Dream’s tilted smirk stuck in his head as he marched off, eyes carefully trained on the boards beneath his feet.</p>
<p>He didn’t dare glance at the hollowed out hillside that taunted him as he passed by its darkened walls.</p><hr/>
<p>The news of Tommy’s disappearance spread fast, far faster than they had expected it to. After notifying the cabinet alongside Phil—Tubbo thought it was only fair that the man be told that his son had gone missing, although that didn’t make it any easier to bear the cocktail of guilt, horror and grief that flashed across the older man’s face in a matter of seconds—it only took a few hours for others to start showing up to offer their help.</p>
<p>Some of the miscellaneous L’manberg residents were the first to arrive; Purpled and Niki showed up with Eret in tow, to no one’s surprise. Fundy had been reluctant to allow Eret’s assistance, but Tubbo found themself simply not caring about the king’s past transgressions against their nation. Tubbo knew Eret regretted their betrayal—had known since he stood across from her at the treaty signing, watching the proceedings with a conflicted expression—and easily welcomed their former ally back, albeit in less than joyful circumstances. Fundy hadn’t dared to protest Tubbo’s decision, for which the young president was grateful; they didn’t think they could handle any major conflicts that arose with the necessary grace they’d adopted as his signature. Not now.</p>
<p>Not without Tommy.</p>
<p>
  <s>How foolish they had been, assuming that the exile would be <i>safe</i> for their extroverted friend.</s>
</p>
<p>Phil had up and disappeared almost immediately after the announcement, Tubbo found, not leaving even a trace behind as a clue to his whereabouts. Tubbo had forced themself not to worry; Phil was mature, he was an adult, and Tubbo knew that a whirlwind of worry and panic was eating at the winged man just as much as it was them, if not more. Ranboo and Quackity had offered to look for him, but Tubbo knew Phil couldn’t get very far with his flight feathers clipped, a restriction carefully enforced by Dream in a performative attempt to “maintain balance” in the SMP lands. It was bullshit and everyone knew it, but Phil hadn’t fought back the way everyone knew he could have, so the matter was dropped. Still, with how quickly he had vanished, Tubbo couldn’t help but wonder if there was something the man hadn’t been as transparent about, something unique about the deep gray feathers which lined his back.</p>
<p>Without Phil, Tubbo was left without any guidance as to how to proceed. He found himself confiding in Eret of all people; the tense situation made the lingering sting of betrayal nothing more than a blip on the horizon, and Tubbo wasn’t sure he could handle this on his own. ‘Til now, they had just been winging this whole presidential thing, trying to do their best to rebuild the country they once loved, but without Tommy things had begun to fall apart. Quackity had been a decent help, his political prowess and strong convictions not to be understated, but even he seemed at a loss for what to do about Tommy. Eret, however, with their calm nature and commanding personality, was able to help Tubbo arrange search parties with Ranboo’s help, identifying likely areas to look through with some advice from Sam, the creeper-hybrid having showed up to offer assistance from himself and the rest of the Badlands faction.</p>
<p>Tubbo couldn’t even begin to convey how thankful they were for the assistance. He had been floundering in a churning ocean of responsibilities and diplomacy for far too long, and the disappearance of their best friend—who <i>he exiled,</i> who they’d cast away in the name of political neutrality, their traitorous mind was happy to remind them—had been the final crashing wave to push them beneath the surface, dragging them down into a swirling tempest of his own creation. His friends had thrown him a lifeline, helping him out of the murky waters, giving him something to cling to, some small shred of hope to keep him treading water just a bit longer.</p>
<p>Tommy used to be that for him. The two of them used to be that for each other.</p>
<p>Tubbo hoped they could be like that again.</p>
<p>They had to find him.</p>
<p>The day after Sam arrived, the once near-empty L’Manberg square was quick to fill with activity. Search parties were gathered, and equipment was distributed by Hbomb and Purpled, the two pooling their significant amounts of resources with the vast stores which flowed in from the Badlands throughout the day, transported by Bad and Skeppy. The wanted poster by the podium had been torn down, replaced with a vast piece of parchment which mapped out the lands of the SMP and beyond, and Sam remained beside the display at near all times, scrawling amendments and notes into the page whenever new information would arrive. Miniature maps were distributed among the search parties depicting the area assigned to them, an attempt to make the searching more efficient.</p>
<p>Groups were coming and going all day, no one ever staying to rest for long. Even Phil showed up at one point. He looked so much more exhausted than he had the previous day, dark bags beneath his eyes and long feathers in a state of complete disarray. As long as Tubbo had known him, the winged-man had always been extremely meticulous in his wing care, never allowing his feathers to remain unkempt for long. Even after the strenuous battle of the Manberg rebellion, one of the first things Phil had done was sit down and preen his newly clipped flight feathers, doing his best to make the jagged edges look as organized as possible. It had seemed to be somewhat relaxing for him, helping to settle his frayed nerves, and yet in this time of clear stress his powerful dark wings were more bedraggled than Tubbo had ever seen.</p>
<p>Phil apologized to Tubbo with a strained smile on his face, the corners of his eyes pinched in a distinctly stressed way. Tubbo pretended not to notice how tightly his wings were pressed against his sides, pretended not to see the newly sprouted flight feathers tucked back in a poor attempt to hide. He didn’t speak a word about regrown limbs or worn posture, instead plastering a weary smile of his own on his face and assuring the older man he was forgiven.</p>
<p>Neither one of them believed him, but that was fine.</p>
<p>Ranboo had been the one to suggest randomized groups of three, to ensure that no faction wars or other grudges caused problems when out searching while still allowing the security of traveling groups. Quackity was assigned to a team with Jack and Connor, Fundy led a party with Antfrost and Karl, and Niki, Puffy and Ponk made up the final searching group. Phil had opted to set out on his own—no one saw any reason to stop him, especially with the hulking pig beast hovering over the seasoned survivalist’s shoulder. Eret and Ranboo, meanwhile, stayed behind with Tubbo, helping him map out and organize more cohesive places to search.</p>
<p>It was incredible, seeing how many lives Tommy had managed to touch; how many people who may have once called themselves his enemies showed up to help track him down. Had he been less preoccupied with the growing sense of dread in his stomach, Tubbo might’ve even found it in himself to be proud of his friend, carrying some latent admiration for Tommy’s social aptitude.</p>
<p>As it stood, though, he just felt sick.</p>
<p>“I’m—I’m sure we’ll find him,” Ranboo said, attempting to reassure the child president, a gentle hand resting on his shoulder, “he can’t have gone far.” Tubbo offered the hybrid a half-hearted smile, lips twisting in a mangled, shaky grimace. Sighing heavily, they turned back towards the map in front of them, crossing out empty segments systematically.</p>
<p>They <i>would</i> find him.</p>
<p>They <i>had to.</i></p><hr/>
<p>The days seemed to crawl by, time devolving into a distorted amalgam of passive anxiety and crushing disappointment. Between the constant flow of search parties returning empty-handed, the ever-dwindling list of locations to search, and the sinking hopelessness spreading throughout the group like a contagious plague, Tubbo knew it was only a matter of time before the low morale began taking its toll.</p>
<p>Fundy was the first to drop out; the fox just stopped showing up a week into the searches. Tubbo pretended not to notice his absence. That turned out to be a mistake, as only a few days later the majority of the remaining search groups had taken that as their cue to leave; Jack, Connor, Ponk and Karl all vanishing without a word. Quackity at least bothered to announce his resignation, spouting some half-baked excuse Tubbo hadn’t managed to listen to. It didn’t matter.</p>
<p>If they weren’t helping to find Tommy, Tubbo didn’t care what they did.</p>
<p>After that, it was only a matter of time before the entire operation came apart at the seams. The Badlands members returned home over the course of the next few weeks, each one leaving with an apology and attempt of goodwill. Purpled, Puffy and Hbomb all eventually left to work on their own projects, and Eret inevitably had to return to her duties as king. Niki ducked out three weeks in, citing her responsibilities to her bakery, but made sure to stop by daily to bring lunches to the remaining party.</p>
<p>As the search parties’ numbers dwindled, Tubbo began setting out to search for himself, against the advice of his cabinet. Fundy and Quackity made it clear that they wouldn’t support any further hunting for L’Manberg’s lost hero, and Tubbo made it clear that he didn’t care about their opinion in turn. Ranboo was kind enough to side with Tubbo in the meeting, and the tall enderman-hybrid insisted on tagging along with Tubbo on his increasingly desperate searches.</p>
<p>Normally Tubbo wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth, but his curiosity wound up getting the better of him. After being abandoned by his allies as his search reached concerningly frantic levels, he just couldn’t see why Ranboo would stick by him so doggedly.</p>
<p>“Tommy… Tommy’s my friend, too,” Ranboo had said, after Tubbo posed the burning question during a break in one of their expeditions. “He was one of the first people to welcome me when I first arrived here, and… he never treated me any different from everyone else. I-I mean, he did, but—well, that’s just how Tommy <i>is,</i> you know?” The two teens shared a brief moment of laughter, their quiet, melancholy chuckles standing out among the forest’s ambiance.</p>
<p>“Yeah…” Sighing, Ranboo stared aimlessly at the ground, eyes unfocused and reminiscent. “He’s… really important,” he murmured, “and I’ve been worried about him for a while now.” Turning to look up at Tubbo, Ranboo smiled softly, an underlying sadness tinging his expression. “I… I trust you, Tubbo. As long as you think Tommy’s still out there, then I’ll help you look for him. We’ll find him, whatever it takes.”</p>
<p>While not everyone shared Ranboo’s perspective of “doing whatever it takes,” some of the other residents tried to help in their own way. Phil, while never stopping the pair from setting out to look for the missing teenager, somehow managed to show up precisely whenever they returned from a search expedition, and would force the two to take ample breaks in between their journeys. On occasion, the winged man would even join them beyond the borders of L’Manberg, although he always carried himself with an air of sadness whenever he did.</p>
<p>Quackity, meanwhile, repeatedly urged Tubbo not to waste time on what he deemed a “pointless search,” arguing that his job as L’Manberg’s president was more important than whatever Tommy was getting up to. Tubbo certainly saw where he was coming from, but they couldn’t help the hot spike of anger that seized him at the implication. Tommy was exiled, yes, and he was a liability to their nation, but the idea that that was <i>all</i> he was made Tubbo’s stomach turn.</p>
<p>Tubbo had already chosen the nation over his friend once.</p>
<p>He refused to make that mistake again.</p>
<p>
  <s>He would make it up to Tommy, or he would <i>die</i> trying.</s>
</p><hr/>
<p>Trudging through calf-high snow, Tubbo clutched the compass around his neck in a gloved-hand, fighting against the howling blizzard in the dark of night. He knew Ranboo and Phil both stood somewhere behind him, but the thick cloud cover and whirlwind of ice flakes made it impossible to see more than a foot in front of him.</p>
<p>The needle of the half-frozen compass whirred frantically, aimlessly spinning as it searched fruitlessly for its other half. Tubbo ran the pads of his gloved fingers over the place he knew Ghostbur’s careful engraving sat, the letters worn and faded from months of wearing down.</p>
<p>Being left alone with his thoughts in the sound vacuum of the blizzard’s howls, Tubbo found himself wondering if maybe he could have done something different. He’d spent more than enough time contemplating the mistake of Tommy’s exile, one which would likely haunt Tubbo for years to come, but outside of that there still might’ve been something they could’ve done.</p>
<p>What if they’d listened to their gut? What if they visited Tommy? What if they bothered to care about their best friend, what if they spent time with him instead of playing chess with a veritable demon? Their compass had been broken for almost two months now, long before Tommy’s reported disappearance. The twin lodestones embedded into the compasses’ backside only functioned outside of dimensional interference, so while it had been mildly worrying to see the tether to their best friend up and vanish, Tubbo had reassured themself that it was merely due to him entering the Nether—<i>Tommy’s banned from the Nether, he’d been banned, he can’t have been there,</i>—or placing the twin tracker in an ender chest—<i>why would he put it away, he can’t see it in the ender chest, does he hate Tubbo, does he not care?</i> What if he’d just been so desperate for reassurance that he’d overlooked a blatant red flag or two, what if he just looked past the signs in favor of willful ignorance?</p>
<p>What if Tommy had needed him, and <i>he wasn’t there?</i></p>
<p>Stumbling over his own feet, Tubbo abruptly found himself lying face down in the thick snow, his vision coated in white. Their body was almost completely numb, and for a brief moment they considered just staying on the ground and allowing the snow to pile up on top of them.</p>
<p>But… no. No, he can’t give up. He has to get up, has to keep going, keep searching, <i>Tommy’s out there somewhere, he needs them-!!!</i></p>
<p>Someone was talking, somewhere, their voices panicked and distant. Something large and soft was wrapped around Tubbo, blocking out the biting wind and snow seeping into his clothing, which Tubbo found it in himself to be grateful for. He vaguely realized he was shivering, his arms trembling as he absently latched onto the warm body to his left.</p>
<p>A gloved hand began gently combing through his tangled hair, the comforting figure murmuring soft reassurances as they held Tubbo close. The words were hardly audible, but the gentle rhythm was soothing enough on its own, calming Tubbo’s panicked breathing to a more livable pace.</p>
<p>
  <i>When had they started hyperventilating?</i>
</p>
<p>“Tubbo?” asked a deep voice, one Tubbo recognized as belonging to Ranboo. Pulling their face out of Phil’s furred cloak—Phil, Phil was holding them, Phil let them cry into his shoulder, <i>since when was Tubbo crying?</i>—they turned to look at Ranboo’s worried expression, the three sheltered inside a canopy formed from Phil’s large wings.</p>
<p>“Y’alright, mate?” Phil asked, hand in Tubbo’s hair stilling. Tubbo hummed noncommittally, unsure how to respond. <i>Are</i> they okay? How can they be, when Tommy is… is-!!</p>
<p>Detangling an arm from Phil’s embrace, Tubbo reached up to the chain around their neck, fumbling with the button on the top in his disoriented desperation to open it. The other two watched silently as his gloved fingers scrambled to unlatch the compass, his breath hitching once he finally managed to open it.</p>
<p>Tubbo stared blankly at the whirring needle, freezing tears tracing twin streaks down his flushed face as he felt his heart sink. Leaning back against Phil, Tubbo let himself exhale sadly, watching as the compass spun and searched for its other half, for the other half that wasn’t there.</p>
<p>Sitting there, tucked away from a snowstorm inside a tent of his surrogate father’s wings, Tubbo finally let himself grieve, finally mourned for a person he never wanted to believe was gone. As the compass spun aimlessly, Tubbo couldn’t help but feel a kinship with the poor device. Both of them were aimless, both missing their other half.</p>
<p>Both of them had lost their true north.</p>
<p>And this time, it was for good.</p>
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